


it's worth the aggravation with you on my arm

by thekaidonovskys



Series: we found love in a hopeless place [10]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Dom Clint Barton, Dom Steve Rogers, M/M, Sub Bucky Barnes, Sub Phil Coulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 08:18:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5619949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekaidonovskys/pseuds/thekaidonovskys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Okay, boys,” Steve says, and Phil is still getting used to just how okay he is with Steve treating him like a sub. It helps that Clint does the same to Bucky. “Tonight is about giving a good impression, so we expect company manners and best behaviour.”</p>
<p>“Stevie, you can talk to me directly,” Bucky says, smirking. “I don’t think you need to tell Phil how to not run his mouth or forget to kneel properly.”</p>
<p>“Shouldn’t have to tell you either, brat” Steve says, and Bucky just grins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's worth the aggravation with you on my arm

**Author's Note:**

> In Bruce's chapter, there was discussion of a PR stunt involving a night out with our two favourite couples. This is that.

Despite the shift to a more modern, progressive society, there are still some societal norms around D/s relationships that haven’t quite faded away, and nearly all of those apply to celebrities more than anybody else. While some depend on the circumstances or the type of celebrity, one applies to all - a new submissive should always be taken out for a public appearance early into the relationship. Ideally this should also be followed by further, regular appearances, at least once every few months, but the first public ‘showing’ is vital.

The Avengers are a different breed of celebrity - but they still count. While public opinion doesn’t affect their income, it can affect their ability to save lives. They need to be trusted by the public to be able to save them, or else they’ll simply be ignored. Most of their PR is around apologies for destruction, or visiting people they’ve rescued who were injured - but inevitably, their relationship statuses are focused on too. 

While Phil has technically had his first appearance as Clint’s, it’s been a good five or six months since the confirmation of their relationship, and they still haven’t so much as gone to a restaurant together. And the fact that Bucky’s official appearance was a good ninety years ago can’t be ignored either. 

It only takes a few months before the PR team that specifically handles the Avengers calls the four of them in and announces the slowly growing wave of public dissent against them. Steve and Clint haven’t, as is pointed out as tactfully as possible, shown off their subs yet. Hell, Bucky still hasn’t gone outside apart from brief trips to the shuttle pad to go to and from SHIELD on occasion. 

Publicity around the Avengers is always tenuous, and liable to swing hard and fast quickly. The suggestion is put forward to try and appease them on this note and put credit into their PR bank account, so to speak, for the next time they accidentally destroy a precious and timeless landmark whilst trying to save the world from destruction. A public appearance - a restaurant, a club, or any other setting where the politics of the D/s relationship can be appropriately displayed - would do wonders for them on that note. 

Steve and Clint spend some time discussing it together, then take their subs away and have a long talk with them individually. Well, at least the time spent apart is long - Clint and Phil’s conversation is over in two minutes, with Phil bowing to necessity and Clint assuring him that he won’t have to do anything he doesn’t want, and the remainder of the time is spent with Clint preemptively rewarding Phil for going out of his comfort zone.

Bucky’s clearly gotten something similar when they meet up again, as he’s a little unfocused around the eyes too. He and Phil whisper quietly in the back of the room about their rewards while Steve and Clint hammer out the details. 

Sometimes it’s nice to be a sub.

***

He’s sure as hell not thinking that a week later as he reads over the list that’s just come through his email. It’s an outline of the chosen restaurant, confirming their reservation for an hour from now, and going over several important points. One of said points is the dress code and rules of behaviour and etiquette for submissives, and this is where Phil’s brain is currently stalling.

“Clint?" he eventually asks. 

Clint looks up from under the towel he's using to dry his hair. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

Phil holds up the list. "Just a few things," he says. 

Clint laughs. "Okay, I know. I think it's bullshit too, don't worry. Some of those have to be enforced to actually get us in the door, but I'll be as lenient as possible."

"Leash?"

"No," Clint says immediately, eyes softening. "It's frowned upon to not put you on one, but they can't actually ban us for it. I won't make you wear a leash."

Phil bows his head in relief. "Thank you, master."

Clint strokes his hair, then gently guides his head back up. "Other concerns? Eyes down rules?"

"They're fine. Behavioural standards aren't a problem, I can meet them. I know how to be a good sub," Phil adds, smirking a little. 

"Damn right you do. So it's the appearance?"

"Yeah." Phil wrinkles his nose, and manages to put all of his distaste and disgust into the next word. "Eyeliner."

Clint bursts out laughing. "Oh, Phil, honey," he says once he's pulled himself together, "that was priceless." He crosses to the dresser, opens a box and pulls out a eyeliner pencil. "I'll keep this well away from you, then?"

Phil's about to ask why Clint even has that, only to have his words die when Clint turns to the mirror and begins expertly applying the eyeliner. "Clint?" he eventually asks. 

Clint meets his eye in the mirror and winks. "You know me, sweetheart. If we're defying standards, we're going to do it properly." He finishes lining his eyes and turns back. "What do you think?"

"Fucking hot," Phil says before his mouth catches up with his brain. Not that there's much chance of that - Clint with deep black lining his eyes, emphasising the intensity of them, has short-circuited his brain.

Clint smiles. "Maybe I need to wear it more often then." He puts the pencil away, returns to Phil, and kisses him softly. "What else?"

Phil tears his eyes from Clint and back to the list. "Submissive attire. Genuinely, what is that?"

Clint shrugs. "I think formal cuffs and collar are the main agreed on aspect. I won't argue if you want to keep your everyday collar on."

Phil shakes his head. "Formal collar is fine." Clint's formal collar is dark grey leather, simple and sleek, and there are soft grey detachable cuffs to match. Phil quite likes them and has no issue wearing them tonight. "But clothes?"

"Again, not sure, but I think just slightly more informal wear than me, and I'm supposed to have 'Dom wear' which is of course leather and intimidation. But you're wearing a suit, because that's how you're comfortable when you're out in public."

"Thank you. What are you wearing?"

"Sinfully tight leather pants." Clint smirks as Phil groans quietly. "Yeah, I know. You can take them off me once we get through the evening."

“I think I’ll deserve it.”

Clint’s smirk drops. “Yeah, I think you will too. Because I took a look at our contract, and this is coming dangerously close to pushing your soft limits, isn’t it?”

Phil shrugs. “I don’t like being on display,” he says. “I don’t like people looking at me like I’m just a _thing_. So yeah, I guess it does. But you’re not leashing me, and Bucky’ll be there, and I know you won’t leave me alone or anything, or let anybody anywhere near me.”

Clint nods. “The only real good thing about people seeing you as my property in a situation like this is that they don’t get to approach or speak to you without my permission. And it won’t be forthcoming.”

“Then I’ll cope.”

Clint sighs. “I wish you could enjoy this - not,” he says quickly as Phil bites his lip, “not because I’m disappointed that you won’t or want to make this a regular thing, but because we’re stuck doing it and I wish it could be something easier.”

And now Phil’s feeling kind of stupid. “It’s just one night,” he says, and turns to the wardrobe to pick out a suit. “I’ve done a lot more uncomfortable things for missions.”

“That’s work. This is us.”

“And sometimes the two have to overlap.”

Clint wisely drops it there, and they both finish getting ready in silence. It’s a little tense, but Clint fixes that by straightening Phil’s tie and kissing his forehead. “My beautiful boy,” he says, smiling.

Phil blushes, hard. “You only say that to embarrass me,” he complains.

“I say it because it’s true - but the blushing is an added bonus.” Clint reaches for the box containing Phil’s formal collar and cuffs. “Both?”

“If I’m allowed.”

“You’re allowed anything you want tonight - that I can give you, anyway.”

Phil bites his tongue before he can pick up the earlier conversation - there’s no point rehashing it when they can't change anything. “I want to look well owned,” he says, holding out his wrists. “If I’m going out there as Hawkeye’s, I’m damn well going to look like I’m kept in luxury.”

“Which you are,” Clint points out, snapping the cuffs in place. “Even on an Avengers salary, I still baulk at some of the price tags.”

“Doesn’t stop you buying them.”

“Only the best for you,” Clint says, grinning but perfectly serious. He removes Phil’s everyday collar, replaces it with the formal one, then steps back to survey him. “Perfect. A sub to be proud of.”

Phil takes the opportunity to do his own surveying of Clint’s aforementioned sinfully tight outfit. “I’m glad I’m not allowed to join in with the table talk,” he admits. “Coherent conversation won’t be one of my skills tonight.”

Clint laughs. “Just trying to blend in,” he says. 

“With me by your side?” Phil asks, looking down at his suit. “Unlikely.”

He doesn’t realize just how unlikely until they make it downstairs - because as soon as they meet up with Steve and Bucky, Phil wants to run back to his room and hide. 

Bucky is picture perfect, every inch the obedient celebrity submissive. He’s in formal attire, but much more dressed down than Phil - dressed for show rather than professionalism. Steve's loosely holding his leash, black leather and very formal, and Bucky looks entirely at ease on the other end of it. He's even wearing that _fucking_ eyeliner. 

Clint touches a hand to the back of his neck - his distress must be obvious. "Phil," he says softly, "you're fine."

"I'm going to let you down."

"You will not. You can't." Clint draws him close, looking him in the eye. "I don't care for one second whether you meet up to ridiculous standards. You are my sweet boy, and if you're happy then I'm happy with you."

"But Bucky looks perfect."

"Hey," Bucky says quietly, and Clint lets Phil go so he can look at him. "Phil, I'm used to this. I did so many engagements as Captain America's sub, I know how to be what these places expect. If you're not comfortable with it, I'm glad Clint's not making you do it."

"But it's just stupid appearance things." Phil shakes his head. "I can do it. I can go get changed, you've got a - a leash, I can -"

"No," Clint says firmly. "I will not put you on a leash. They upset you, and I won't have that. I want you to be comfortable tonight, and that means dressing how you would to go out normally. A suit can be passed off as a stylistic choice on my behalf anyway, and sweetheart, I'm sorry, but eyeliner won't suit you."

Phil attempts to smile and fails. "But I still don't look the part. I don't look like I'm yours -"

"Permission to not wear my leash, sir?" Bucky asks. 

Steve smiles. "Granted."

"What?" Phil says quickly. "No, you don't have to -"

Steve's already unclipping it. "Phil, none of us chose this," he says. "Bucky is dressed in formal attire because he's comfortable with it and quite enjoys dressing up for a night out. If he weren't comfortable, I would do the same as Clint has, and let him dress how he wishes. Not wearing a leash will draw negative attention to you - both of you not wearing leashes will be a statement, and one that we're quite happy to make. We're neutral about the leash; I accept that it has to be worn sometimes, but I'd prefer Bucky off it unless he actually asks for it. So this works well for us, and it makes you calmer. Those are all good things."

Phil bows his head. "Thank you," he says quietly. 

Bucky reaches for his hand, squeezing it gently. "You're welcome. Just because I'm used to this doesn't mean I think a lot of it, and I’m still getting used to being out in public again anyway. If I have to be on the ground tonight, I'm glad I've got company." 

"Me too.”

_“Sirs, your car has arrived,”_ JARVIS says.

As they walk outside to the car, Phil has to laugh. “You requisitioned a SHIELD driver?”

“It was kind of insisted upon,” Steve says, holding the door for them all. “We’re representing SHIELD as much as we are the Avengers - and a SHIELD driver can’t be bribed by journalists.”

“You’d be surprised,” Phil says.

“Okay, that’s at least one good story right there,” Bucky says as Steve closes the door behind them. “Spill it.”

That, and a few other amusing tales of SHIELD agent antics, pass the time until they arrive and keep Phil from getting too nervous. Of course that all comes back in full force once they pull up - but neither Clint nor Steve move when the car stops. “Okay, boys,” Steve says, and Phil is still getting used to just how okay he is with Steve treating him like a sub. It helps that Clint does the same to Bucky. “Tonight is about giving a good impression, so we expect company manners and best behaviour.”

“Stevie, you can talk to me directly,” Bucky says, smirking. “I don’t think you need to tell Phil how to not run his mouth or forget to kneel properly.”

“Shouldn’t have to tell you either, brat,” Steve says, and Bucky just grins. “But my real point is that just because tonight is about publicity doesn’t mean you have to endure it and be miserable. Leaving early because it’s too much - if it’s too uncomfortable, or people stare too much - isn’t bad behaviour. If you can’t do it, call it, and we leave straight away.”

“Good,” Bucky says, now less smug. “I’ll try, but I can’t promise until I know what kinds of stares they are.”

Phil’s gaze drops to Bucky’s arm, covered but still visible, and remembers that Bucky is still dealing with struggles of his own. “I’ll glare at them,” Steve promises, and Phil looks at him to see fierce protection in his eyes. “Shit, I’ll call them out if necessary. We’re doing this, but we don’t have to put up with any crap. So you tell me if it needs to be over, and it will be.”

Phil figures that’s all settled, until he catches Clint’s eye - and if Steve’s expression was protective, it’s nothing on Clint’s. “I need your promise, Phil,” he says. “I don't expect you to be having the time of your life, but if you're unhappy, we leave. This isn't about pushing limits or seeing how long you can endure it, and I won’t be able to focus on you as much as I’d like without drawing the wrong kind of attention. So I need to know that you’ll speak up _immediately_.”

“I will," Phil says, and his voice comes out quiet. Clint is shockingly intimidating like this. 

The tension is broken when Bucky leans over to stage whisper, “Does he know how Alpha he looks right now? I think you might have to be the one protecting him from all the interested subs.”

Steve laughs, and Clint does too after a moment, eyes softening. “I don’t think anybody will be approaching our table tonight asking to step in,” he says, then kisses Phil’s forehead. “Sorry, baby. You know I trust you, I just had to make it clear.”

“Same for you, Buck,” Steve says. “We’re all going to get through tonight, then go home and never set foot in one of these restaurants again.”

“I’m sure I heard that after every single Captain America engagement,” Bucky murmurs. 

Steve swats his shoulder lightly, then reaches for the door handle. “Game faces,” he says. “Let’s do this.”

They exit the car to flashing lights - paparazzi camp outside restaurants such as these every night to get photos of those entering. Thankfully there aren't too many, but Phil hears the murmurs grow as they enter, just as anticipated. Nobody knows they’re coming here tonight, but within the next ten minutes _everybody_ will know that they’re here. 

“Okay?” Clint asks once they’re inside, taking their coats off to be checked in.

Phil nods, smoothing down his suit. Really, he’s just assuring himself of his concealed weapons - he’s the only one who has them, as Clint’s outfit doesn’t really allow for a handgun, and while there’s a very slim chance of needing them, they help Phil breathe easier. “I’ve never photographed well,” he says, “but I didn’t meet anybody’s eyes, so I think I’m following the rules so far.”

“You’ve already earned a reward,” Clint says, taking his hand as they follow Steve and Bucky back to the foyer. “Let’s see how many you can get by the end of the night.”

“Do I get a reward, Stevie?” Bucky asks.

Steve snorts. “You glared down every camera lens out there. What do you think?”

Bucky looks ready to answer, but the hostess approaches to lead them to their table and he falls silent, looking down. Phil does the same while Steve confirms their booking, then follows Clint through to the dining room.

The restaurant is designed for public appearances by celebrities, so they aren't the only ones out tonight - but Phil also knows that not everybody in the room is famous. The rest of the tables are for those who can afford them, and plenty of journalists pay the high prices to get the best stories. Plenty of scandals and revelations have occurred after too much wine over dinner in restaurants like this, and while Phil certainly isn’t planning on drinking at all, he’s overly aware of the people at the tables near them.

He’s not the only one. As they reach their table and kneelers are brought over, Clint leans closer to Phil to murmur, “Well, with the very scant knowledge I have of celebrities, I think I can safely say that the table behind us aren’t members of elite society.”

Phil nods. “I think I recognise the ones to our right off some movie, and that’s one of the morning news anchors over there… and that’s my knowledge tapped out.”

Clint chuckles, then straightens as a waiter brings over a kneeler to him, waiting for Clint’s instruction. “At my side,” Clint says, and Phil’s relieved - often subs are seated further away, at right angles to their Doms, and Phil is happy to not be so far away, or so far exposed. He’s even happier when Clint examines where Steve is directing Bucky’s kneeler, then makes sure Phil is directly across from him. The benefits are twofold - Phil has someone to talk to, and they each hide the other from prying eyes at the tables behind them. Now the only people with a good view of them are on their right, and most of them are confirmed to not be journalists. 

Phil waits while the kneelers and their tables are placed, then kneels, keeping his back straight and eyes down. Clint touches the back of his neck, murmuring praise, and Phil hears Steve do the same for Bucky. Then the two take their own seats, beginning an innocuous dinner conversation a moment later.

Phil glances up and meets Bucky’s eye. “I’m allowed to look at you, right?” he asks quietly. 

“As long as our Doms gave us permission, we're free to interact with other subs,” Bucky confirms. “But I’d not look around too much - apparently these days submissive journalists exist. Are there any jobs left where subs aren’t allowed?”

“Certain branches of the military and police departments, yes. They’re allowed everywhere else - but as for actually being there…”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Apparently mixed-rank boxing and martial arts were banned from the Olympics?”

Phil nods. “Most Doms had issues with hitting a sub. Those who didn’t found that the general population had problems with watching it - remind me to show you a video from the 2000 games, it’s really powerful stuff…”

Phil almost forgets where they are until Clint taps his shoulder to get his attention. “What do you want to eat, baby?” Clint asks. “Do you want my menu?”

Phil considers it, then shakes his head - there’s an obvious reason why he hasn’t been given one, and now that he remembers his surroundings, Phil’s aware of the probable eyes on them right now seeing if he acts as he should. “Something with chicken,” he says. “I trust your judgement.”

Clint smiles. “Good boy,” he says. “Wine?”

“Water, please.”

Clint nods in approval, then sits back up to place their orders. Phil listens long enough to hear that Clint isn’t drinking either, then looks back at Bucky who hasn’t even been consulted. “Steve’s been doing this long enough that he doesn’t have to ask,” Bucky explains. “And I’ll kind of eat anything.”

“Oh, I’m telling Bruce. He’s been trying to get one of us to guinea pig some of his weird faux-meat meals. I don’t mind vegetarian, but I’m not going near a tofu burger.”

Bucky laughs. “Tofu isn’t that bad -“

“Don’t even think about defending it.”

Phil had been worried about dinner conversation - he knows he’s not allowed to join in with Clint and Steve’s discussion unless directly spoken to, and most of the conversations Phil has with friends and family are about work. But Bucky has always been easy to talk to, and soon enough they’re deep in conversation about innocent sub topics - the best brands for collars and cuffs takes up a good ten minutes alone. It’s the kind of talk that Phil hasn’t had since his teenage years, and it’s surprisingly nice. A lot of tonight is well outside his comfort zone, but at least Phil isn’t completely inept at being a social submissive.

Though some things still surprise him. With the arrival of the meal comes Phil’s first test of self control, as the waiter turns to Clint and Steve to ask whether their submissives require cutlery. Phil’s left blinking in shock as his food - _with_ cutlery, thank god - is placed in front of him, and barely remembers to nod his head in thanks. Once the waiter is gone, he stares at Bucky, who just nods. “Yeah, I know. It’s usually either punishment or public humiliation. Give it a few seconds, then look to your left.”

Phil does, and has to stop himself from staring. The sub at the table two over has neither table nor cutlery, his plate set on the ground. “I didn’t think it was still allowed,” Phil admits as he looks back at Bucky. “Has Steve ever…?”

“Never. He knows I’d walk out on dinner if he tried - but you have to remember, Phil, some people like it.”

Phil sighs and nods. “I know. It’s just unsettling.”

Clint touches a hand to the back of Phil’s neck. “Everything okay?” he asks.

Phil looks up at him. “I never thought I’d be saying this, but thank you for letting me have cutlery.”

Clint nods in understanding. “Of course, sweet boy. Eat your dinner.”

Phil does, marvelling a little at his own naivety. But then, he hasn’t been out as a submissive in a very long time - a lot of what’s happening tonight is making him feel like a newbie all over again. 

At least the food is delicious.

But once the waiter has left with their empty plates, Bucky catches Phil’s eye, and he’s grinning. “This is the point where we’re supposed to ask permission to go to the bathroom and touch up our makeup together. Apparently it’s _cute_.”

Phil rolls his eyes and looks up. Clint, who’s clearly been listening, is smirking. “It is cute, though,” he says. “Permission granted.”

“I didn’t really want it, but thanks,” Phil mutters as he stands, Bucky doing the same. “Are we supposed to hold hands too or something?”

Bucky grins and loops their arms together. “Well, yeah,” he says, and Phil has to smile. “You remind me of me on my first few publicity tours, except much better behaved. I usually got corner time at the end of the night for saying something inappropriate or not being well-behaved.”

Phil pushes open the bathroom door, blinking at the opulence. “If Clint even thinks of putting me in the corner, I’m out,” he says, picking one of the huge armchairs and sitting down. “Level with me - is the real reason we come in here so we get a chance to rest our knees?”

“Damn right,” Bucky says, taking the seat next to him. He nods at a couple of girls who enter and sit down across from them, then looks back to Phil. “Subs bathrooms are always designed by subs, and they’re always the most comfortable place in any club or restaurant. They both know we’re not in here touching up our makeup - you’re not wearing any and I always look impeccable.”

Phil rolls his eyes, then turns when one of the girls lightly clears her throat. “Sorry,” she says, looking at Phil, “but are you new? I would have thought…”

“He’s not new,” Bucky explains, “but he doesn’t really do clubs or formal engagements.”

Phil, smiling wryly, gestures to his suit. “Can you imagine why?”

The girls laugh, then introduce themselves as Katie and Sophia. It’s all too easy to fall into talk with them - about their Dom and Domme, the best and worst parts of public submission, and even a few makeup tips. Phil sits this part out, and Katie bows out after a moment, turning her attention back to him. “Hawkeye’s, right?”

Phil nods, then frowns at her, trying to remember the few social pages he’s flicked through in preparation for tonight. “And yours is… that pop star? The blonde one?”

She laughs. “Sure, let’s go with that. You’re about as removed from popular culture as you are this sort of thing then?”

“Usually I’m too busy with aliens and terrorists.”

Katie nods. “Watching music videos get made is interesting and all, but that must be a whole other world of fascinating.”

Phil smiles. “It is. It’s also a whole other world of hectic and fairly insane.”

“I bet. All this stuff we didn’t even realise exists, and I bet there’s a lot more out there that we still don’t know about because you guys keep it contained so it doesn’t kill us.” Phil concedes that with a nod, and Katie nods back. “I’m glad the Avengers are around, y’know? They do a lot of good.”

“That they do,” Phil agrees quietly. “And yet sometimes they have to do PR stunts to keep up their reputation.”

“That explains why you’re here,” Katie agrees. “You’re doing good, anyway. We’re a few tables over, and I know the table between us are reporters. So far they’ve gotten nothing juicy.”

Phil smiles. “Good to know.”

Katie smiles too, then leans in a little. “So, I have to ask. What’s it _like_?” Phil frowns, and her smile turns into a smirk. “Those _muscles._ ”

Bucky bursts out laughing, and Phil quickly stands. “That’s definitely our cue to depart.” Katie pouts, and Phil sighs. “Better than restraints,” he murmurs, and grabs Bucky’s arm. “C’mon, they’ll be wondering where we are.”

Bucky’s still snickering as they return to the table. Clint raises an eyebrow and Steve sighs, taking Bucky by the back of the neck and pushing him down. “Behave,” he says sternly. “You know you don’t bring bathroom talk back to the table.”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky says, going quiet and well-behaved in an instant.

Phil sinks to his knees and Clint touches the back of his neck lightly. “Doing okay?” he murmurs. 

“Better than expected,” Phil admits. “Met some fans in the bathroom. I think one of them wants to be me… or just really likes guys with muscles.”

Clint smothers a laugh. “Cute,” he says. “What do you want for dessert?”

Phil opts again to let Clint decide, and ends up with tiramisu, which suits him fine. There’s brief talk of coffee after that, but Clint and Steve eventually decide against it, probably ready to call the night a night.

Phil’s glad for it. Because, sure, it hasn’t been _horrible_ , but he’s still excruciatingly aware of the people around him. It’s not even so much about the journalists for him - the publicity is important, but Phil doesn’t give a fuck if his picture doesn’t look perfect or anything - but just the fact that people are _seeing him_. It’s taken this long to learn to submit easily to Clint, and sometimes subbing out around the family is hard enough, let alone this. Phil feels exposed, like he’s showing something deeply personal to people he doesn’t know, and it’s uncomfortable in a way he’s struggling to really understand. Yes, he's laughed, and had good conversations and excellent food. He's even socialized. But throughout it all, Phil hasn't been comfortable - and that's what's important.  All he knows is that he doesn’t like it, and thank god it’s almost over.

Though, as it turns out, there’s one final hurdle.

When they enter the coatroom, Clint steps back out for a moment to talk with the hostess, returning with an apprehensive expression. Phil puts Clint’s coat on for him, then draws close to adjust the lapels. “What’s going on?” he murmurs.

“Exactly what we predicted,” Clint says. “Word has spread that we’re here, and the paparazzi have arrived in full force. Lots of cameras. How do you want to handle it?”

“What are the options?”

“Limited,” Clint admits, turning to get Phil’s coat and holding it out for him to slip into. “I can try to shield you so they don’t get too many photos, but that’s not going to look good. We can try sneaking out the back, but you know we’ll get caught, and that’ll look worse.”

Phil shrugs. “Accept it,” he says. “Walk out as normal. Except… what’s normal for a place like this?”

“Probably you either a step behind or hurrying ahead to open the doors,” Clint says, pulling a face. “So you’ll be by my side.”

“And mine,” Bucky says. “Put on your best submissive face, look straight ahead, and don’t respond to anybody yelling, no matter what they say. Clint and Steve will have their bitch faces on.”

“So resting face for Clint?” Phil asks innocently.

Clint lightly swats his arm, then kisses his cheek. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

There are cameras. There are lots of cameras. There are lots of people, there’s lots of yelling and questions and _fans._ Nobody mentioned the fans. Nobody mentioned the _signs_.

Phil has had years of learning how to not react, and he puts that to the test tonight. Clint squeezes his hand tight, Bucky presses close on the other side, and the four of them make it to the waiting car unscathed and with dignity intact. The driver holds the door, Clint and Steve usher Bucky and Phil in, then quickly get in themselves and close the door.

“Sweet, beautiful silence,” Bucky murmurs.

Steve sits down next to him, Clint taking the seat next to Phil across from them. “That’s so much worse than it was back in the day,” Steve grumbles. 

“Please tell me we don’t have to do that ever again,” Clint says.

Phil sighs quietly and doesn’t speak. Bucky yawns and presses closer to Steve, clearly wanting a hug. Steve and Clint share a look, Bucky and Phil exchange one of their own, and it's quietly agreed that the other couple doesn't exist right now. 

"Come here, darling boy," Clint murmurs, and holds Phil close. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart."

"Thank you," Phil whispers, and hides his face against Clint's neck. 

Clint pets his hair softly, letting him stay quiet and still. "Such a good boy," he says after a few minutes. "Steve and I were the luckiest Doms there to have such well-behaved, obedient, beautiful boys with us tonight."

"Even though I couldn't wear a leash?"

"You don't need a leash to behave, and I don't need you on one to be proud of you."

Phil shoots a glance at Steve and Bucky, watching Steve pet Bucky’s hair. "And you don't wish I looked more like Bucky?"

"No, beautiful boy. I love you exactly as you are."

Phil finally relaxes. "I know tonight didn't matter to you and Steve, and that you don't care what's going to be in the newspapers tomorrow - but I still wanted to do you proud. For you, not for anybody else."

"You did, sweetheart." Clint presses a soft kiss to his lips. "You always do. I'm proud just to have you with me, Phil, no matter where we are and what we're doing. And you pushed a limit for me tonight and did so well, which makes me even prouder -"

"Sorry," Steve says, and they look over. "Really not trying to listen in but was this a limit for Phil?"

"Soft limit, yes," Clint confirms. "Being submissive in public is not easy for him, and he pushed quite far out of his comfort zone tonight."

"You should have said," Steve says. "Buck and I could have done all the publicity stuff, there's no need for you to make him push his limits -"

"Clint didn't make me do anything," Phil says quietly. "He told me what the situation was, and I decided that this was the best way of addressing it head on. If I had said no, he would never have pushed it."

Steve nods. "I know Clint always takes care of you," he says, and Phil smiles. "And I'm very impressed - I never realized it was a limit, I thought you were just uncomfortable about the clothes. You did really good, Phil."

Phil blushes and Clint rubs a thumb across his collar. "Is Bucky out of it?" he asks, trying to get the focus off himself. 

Steve glances fondly down at Bucky, as close to curled in Steve's lap as he can get. "Pretty sure he's actually asleep now," Steve says, smoothing a hand across his back. "He's always pretty tired after things like this. Apparently something about focusing on keeping the formal kneel is exhausting."

Phil frowns. "Really? Not something I've ever found."

"Bucky isn't much of a kneeler," Steve says. "Generally in private he's at my level."

Clint chuckles. "Phil is the complete opposite. I have to request his presence if I feel like cuddling - sometimes I think he loves the ground more than he loves me."

Phil nudges him lightly with his shoulder. "That's not even close to true, and you know it."

"I do," Clint agrees. "But you spend a lot of time on your knees, you have to admit that."

"Not that you complain about it."

"Certainly not." The car pulls up, and Clint looks at Bucky. "You gonna wake him?"

Steve unbuckles their belts, gathers Bucky up in his arms, and nods for Clint to open the door. "Serum strength has to be good for something, right?" he says with a smirk as he effortlessly gets both of them out. 

Phil and Clint follow, Phil reaching for Clint's hand and holding on a bit too tight. After a night of forced submission, Phil had predicted needing some control - to his surprise, he feels even subbier. Clint just squeezes back, then leads him inside. “And relax,” he says, then chuckles as everybody’s shoulders slump, picture perfect posture abandoned. “JARVIS, go ahead and tell anybody who was waiting for us that we’re home but worn out, and we’ll fill them all in tomorrow.”

They pile in to the lift, Bucky still fast asleep. “So what’d you do pre-serum days when this kind of thing happened?” Clint asks.

Steve chuckles. “He carried me around instead,” he admits. “Not often, and I’d usually tell him off for it, but he wouldn’t let me take more than two flights of stairs on my own.” The lift stops at their floor and Steve steps out. “Later fellas. Good work tonight.”

Phil smiles fondly after them until the doors close. “At least Bucky won’t end up in the corner tonight,” he says.

Clint raises an eyebrow, then laughs when Phil explains the bathroom conversation. “Bucky always did strike me as a bit of a brat,” he says. “But it’s definitely a game with those two. I know for a fact that Steve has some pretty strict rules that Bucky has not once broken. He’s a good boy at heart.”

“Don’t think I could do disobedience for fun,” Phil murmurs as the lift stops and they step out. “I don’t always mind my words, but orders are for obeying and there’s no way I could act out in public.”

Clint keys open the door. “I like you this way,” he says, following Phil inside and immediately shedding his jacket. “There can be a lot of fun in playing games with a bratty sub, but I like to know that my orders will be followed and my boy will behave himself, both in public and private.”

Phil yawns. “Does behaving include going to bed?” he asks. “Because I’d be really down for some behaving right now.”

"Thought you were gonna take me out of these clothes,” Clint teases. Phil yawns again, raising an eyebrow pointedly, and Clint kisses his forehead. “Raincheck it is. Let me just grab the cuffs and collar - which were noticed, by the way, and their price tag commented on a few times, so thank you for not spilling anything on them.”

Phil chuckles quietly, and stays still while Clint removes the item and puts Phil’s regular collar back on him. A little more of the tension seeps out of him with the familiarity of his collar, and Phil relaxes even further once he’s washed off the day and collapsed into bed.

Clint joins him, switching off the lights and encouraging Phil to wrap around him. Phil clings, because he can’t help it, and Clint just holds him and waits. They both seem to know what’s coming.

“Clint?” Phil finally says.

“Mm?”

Phil feels _stupid_ right now, but he has to say it while he’s feeling how he feels. “I don’t think I can do that again,” he admits very quietly. 

Clint hugs him tighter. “Thanks for telling me, baby,” he says - and now Phil can almost hear him choosing his words carefully, because when they make promises to each other they’re for keeps. “I can promise that we’ll never opt in for something like this again,” he says. “I wish I could say we’ll never end up in that situation, but you know the kinds of crazy shit that happens to us. But I promise, if it’s in my power to change the situation, I will.”

Phil nods, still feeling ridiculous. “It’s such a stupid limit,” he says.

“What did I tell you about stupid limits?”

“… they don’t exist.”

“Exactly. If it upsets you, and if you’ve tried to work through it and can’t, then it’s a perfectly valid limit that I will honor. If it helps, I’m _really_ glad I have a reason to opt out.”

Phil yawns. “The eyes too much for you too?”

“I’m a sniper, and before that I was an assassin. My job is to have _no_ eyes on me - it always feels like a failure when that many people can see me.” Clint kisses the top of Phil’s head and smoothes a hand over his hair. “Go to sleep, sweet boy, and dream of happy things.”

“Don’t need to. I get multiple rewards tomorrow, that’s better than any dream.”

“You’re the cutest,” Clint informs him, kissing him again. “Also, as little as this might mean to you, you had the best formal kneel in the whole place. You looked fucking _regal_.”

“I’ll take that,” Phil mumbles around another yawn, and promptly falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Next fic: I have no damn idea. Nothing's finished and I'm not sure where to focus. So, you tell me - what would you prefer to read next? The time where Clint kinda fucks up and Phil has a meltdown at work in front of all of his very dominant colleagues; a study of safewords, the complication around them, and some of the times they get used; or the beginnings of ageplay and the serious complications around that?


End file.
